Wind plays on hemlock lyre
Spice spruces bow down before
evergreen queen's final pyre
Her driftwood fir campfire
Lights up a summer night
Pull your lawn chair near and
Commune with lady firelight
Winter wood light is chill
As Frost rime winks at me
First snow garlands twinkle
On wild grown Christmas tree
I'm lakeland limber lost
In my own memories
Was lost and found again
in dear old back dune trees
summer sun bleached beach sand
stark sparkles in moisty mist
silica quartz bits chum
with specks of mica schist
I spoke of Sunday in
the grama-grampa time
I endured boring church
to wander in woods mine
to kneel in lakeside pew
by the Gitche gummee
on our rain drenched bench
just my granddad and me
My mighty Michigan
I worship at your shrine
in dear little hut with gramp
carved out of jack pine
how I love lake goddess
My heart home tis of thee
And I will sing forever
of thy divine
majesty
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